


Critical Incident

by LuxInvictus



Category: The Closer
Genre: AU - canon compliant, Anal Sex, BAMF Fritz, Blow Jobs, Body Worship, Canon-Typical Violence, Consensual Sex, Consent is Sexy, Don't worry, Fluffersmutter, Fluffy Smut, Foreplay, Fritz Howard - Freeform, Fritz Howard/Gavin Q. Baker, Fritz is still in the FBI though, Gavin POV, Gavin Q. Baker III - Freeform, Gavin is a bossy bottom, Gritz - Freeform, Hostage Situation, Kidnapping, M/M, Major Crimes verse, Making Love, Non-Consensual Touching, Schmoop, Shower Sex, Slight Blasphemy, Smut, Some angst, The Author Regrets Everything, The Author Regrets Nothing, blame Fritz for that, bottom!Gavin, but he tries to be considerate this time, coarse language, criminal OCs - Freeform, he just knows what he wants, obligatory OCs - Freeform, the author is a horrible person, the bastard gets his comeuppance, top!Fritz
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-29
Updated: 2017-10-08
Packaged: 2018-12-08 08:26:47
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 18,623
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11642712
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LuxInvictus/pseuds/LuxInvictus
Summary: Gavin is taken hostage by two escaped criminals on the run from the FBI, and it's up to Fritz to rescue him.Now split into chapters for an easier reading experience!





	1. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fritz calls Gavin with a strange request.

-.-.-.-.-

Gavin has waved the last client of the day out of his office and is finishing up the attorney/client contract over a cup of fabulously delicious and much needed espresso when his cell phone rings. Saving his progress, he tugs it out of the jacket of his gray Armani suit and takes a sip of his drink as he checks the caller I.D. Warmth blossoms in his chest when he sees Fritz’s name and picture on the screen.

Smiling to himself, he swipes his thumb to answer and leans back in his leather rolling chair, staring out the far window at the blazing summer afternoon sky. “Hey babe. What’s up?”

_“Have you seen the news?”_  Fritz says without preamble, sounding like a harbinger of doom.

Gavin frowns and tugs the phone away from his ear long enough to throw it some major side-eye. Rude. “Well hello to you too,” he says, swiveling around idly in his chair. Sunlight glinting off the glass coffee table in front of the brown leather new-client sofa stabs his eyes. Wincing, he turns to face the window to his left and stares down at the cars crawling like ants along the already congested streets.

_“Just…if you’re near a TV, turn on the news.”_

A dozen questions jumble together on the tip of Gavin’s tongue, but the tone of Fritz’s voice tells him not to ask, just do it. Rolling his eyes and grabbing the tiny porcelain cup, because this is not a conversation he can have without caffeine, Gavin sighs himself to his feet and wanders down the tastefully decorated hall to the breakroom. But he really can’t help himself. He just has to know. “And why am I going somewhere where I might actually have to interact with my colleagues?” he asks, deliberately slurping the espresso loud enough that Fritz can hear that he’s interrupting Gavin’s post-client wind-down ritual with his gruff, vague orders that put him in danger of having to socialize.

_“Are you near a TV yet?”_

Gavin clutches the phone harder than strictly necessary and shakes his head as the beginnings of a headache start squeezing his temples. Sometimes dating an FBI agent has its drawbacks. Sure, the sex is great. Fabulous, actually. But moments like these, where Gavin is abruptly slapped in the face with the reminder that he’s a mere civilian while Fritz is a government agent make him —

He loses his train of thought as he steps into the breakroom and finds several lawyers and paralegals clustered around the wide-screen television. Quirking his brows and canting his head to the side, Gavin absently rinses his empty cup and joins the small crowd. Lucky for him he’s taller than everyone else and can see the screen just fine. A female news anchor in a stylish navy blue business suit addresses the camera as pictures of two men fade into view above her left shoulder: a bald, clean-shaven Hispanic man with cold dead eyes like a shark, and a thickset white man whose face is smothered by a tangled, reddish-brown beard. At the bottom of the screen, a ribbon of text reads ‘Breaking: Two Suspects Escape Custody, Three FBI Agents In Critical Condition.’

“ — were arrested under suspicion of engaging in organized crime, including murder for hire, extortion, kidnapping, and drug trafficking,” the newscaster is saying. The screen flicks to an aerial scene outside the FBI field office. Chaos reigns on the ground as people dart to and fro while others huddle in small groups. Black-and-white LAPD squad cars and black government-issue SUVs whisk into the parking lot or back out onto the street, lights flashing and sirens wailing.

The news anchor begins describing “frenzied” efforts to capture the criminals, but Gavin doesn’t need to see or hear anymore to know why Fritz is so on edge. Backing quietly away from the lawyers glued to the screen before anyone can see him and start a conversation, he leaves the breakroom and heads back to his office. “So,” he says as he sinks back into his chair, “I suppose this means you’ll be working late tonight.” Though why Fritz couldn’t just say that to begin with is beyond Gavin. Chewing his cheek so doesn’t actually say that and make Fritz’s day even worse with his snark, he slips off his glasses and and fumbles around in the side desk drawer for some pain killers.

_“Pretty much,”_  Fritz says as Gavin grabs one of the water bottles displaying the firm’s name on the label (so vulgar) and twists off the cap.  _“Could you — hold on a second.”_  Something rustles and scratches across the connection and muffled voices rumble in the background, brisk and clipped and, on Fritz’s part, apologetic. As Gavin pops the pills and gulps them down with a grimace, he realizes that Fritz is probably not even supposed to be talking to him right now. The fact that Fritz took the time out of an undoubtedly stressful and highly classified situation to call Gavin and make sure he knew what was going on makes his chest tighten, and he’s glad Fritz couldn’t hear his mental sniping.

Slipping his glasses back on, he cradles the phone between his ear and shoulder, then jerks the computer mouse around to banish the screen saver and gets back to work on the new client contract to give himself something to do while waiting for Fritz. Muffled voices drone in his ear as he finishes it up a few minutes later, prints it out, and slips it into a blue manila file folder for medical malpractice suits. That done, he shuts down his computer and busies himself tidying his desk, humming tunelessly to himself.

He’s in the middle of organizing the top drawer when Fritz comes back on the line.  _“Sorry about that,”_  he says, voice rough and quick.  _“Anyway. I need you to do me a huge favor and go to the Police Administration Building after you get done at work.”_

Gavin, who’s organizing the pens by size and color, squints at that. “Why?” he asks the handful of pens poised in front of him.

Fritz sighs, and Gavin knows he’s scrubbing a hand down his face.  _“Just do it, please? For me?”_   he asks, a note of desperation slipping into his voice.

And suddenly Gavin realizes what this is all about. Smiling and laughing softly to himself, he plops the pens into their designated slots and shuts the drawer with a snap, stretching his legs out in front of him as he leans back in his chair. “Sweetie, there are more people in Los Angeles than there are in some states. Some countries, even. I doubt those suspects of yours will randomly stumble across me of all people.”

_“I’d still feel better if you were somewhere surrounded by cops.”_

The last thing Gavin wants to do is bother Sharon and her team over something so ridiculous. There are bad guys on the loose, hide me! No, Gavin Q. Baker has more dignity than to go running to Sharon like a sniveling little child. Besides, they’re probably involved in the manhunt, supporting the FBI. Showing up there now would be pointless. “Do these people even know where we live? Or where my firm is?” he asks, idly playing with his tie as he stares at the ceiling, imagining patterns in the random splatter of dots on the tiles.

_“No, but —”_

“Then why does it matter where I go? I’m a grown-ass man, Fritz. I think I’ll be fine by myself for a few hours.”

Fritz sighs heavily.  _“Gavin. Please, just —”_

“Love you, Fritz. Bye-bye.” He hangs up before Fritz can protest and tucks his phone back in his jacket pocket so he won’t be tempted to answer if Fritz calls back, which he does. Humming under his breath, Gavin collects his keys and his wallet and lets the call go to voicemail. Really, Fritz is just being paranoid. It’s beyond silly for Fritz to worry about something so improbable, but his sweet concern for Gavin’s safety makes Gavin feel light and weightless all the same.

After twisting the blinds shut to block out the sun, he flicks off the light switch, shuts and locks his office door, and heads out. As he passes the secretary’s desk in the waiting area, footsteps echoing on the white quartz and black granite tiles, she farewells him with a soft “Be safe, Mr. Baker.” Shooting her a broad smile and a playful wink, he pushes open the heavy glass door and heads for the stairwell, waggling his fingers cheerfully in the air.

Fritz — at least he assumes it’s Fritz — calls three more times on his way to the parking garage. Gavin ignores it, drumming his fingers against his leg as he strides through the lobby and out into the relatively fresh air. Honestly, everyone is being absolutely ridiculous. The escapees have probably crawled back into their dark, sleazy criminal underworld by now and won’t poke their heads back out for a good long time. No matter what Fritz might think, Gavin seriously doubts they’re going to spontaneously swarm his car at a red light and drag him into a white panel van or whatever. As he unlocks the door of his burgundy Lexus and slips behind the wheel, he decides to go home. That way he can tell Fritz ‘I told you so’ when nothing happens, and hopefully goad him into dragging Gavin into their bedroom and pounding him into the mattress. The idea makes him warm and tingly and he smiles at his plans for the evening.

Just as Gavin predicts, the drive home is quiet and criminal-free. He spends most of it singing along with the radio and button-mashing the presets whenever boring songs or commercials come on. Not even the typical rush-hour traffic jams spoil his mood. As he finally pulls into the tree-lined gravel driveway of their Laurel Canyon home, his phone buzzes in his pocket and gives the telltale chirp of a text message. After cutting the engine, he takes a moment to stretch and roll the stiffness out of his neck, then tugs out his phone as he locks the car and strolls toward the house, swinging his keys around in his free hand with a rhythmic jangle.

It’s a message from Fritz.  _CALL ME RIGHT NOW. I MEAN IT!!_  Gavin snorts fondly. Really, all caps and two exclamation points? My my, how dramatic. Fritz should audition for Days of Our Lives; he’d fit right in. Still, he better call before Fritz has an aneurism or starts shitting bricks. Ha. Fritz shitting bricks. He smirks and chuckles at the admittedly childish rhyme as an old navy blue sedan rounds the corner, engine spluttering like the hillside roads are overwhelming the transmission.

The engine groans to a stop behind Gavin. A door opens and footsteps crunch on the gravel as he swipes a thumb through his contacts list for Fritz’s number. But they have neighbors on either side, so he pays it no mind until he glances around, waiting for Fritz to pick up, and realizes that both of the neighbors’ cars are already there. A slight chill shivers down his spine, but he shakes the feeling off. Fritz’s paranoia is rubbing off on him, that’s all. Obviously one of the neighbors is expecting company, he tells himself as he unconsciously lengthens his stride, nothing sinister about that. Stop overreacting.

Fritz picks up after two more rings.  _“Gavin! Where are you?”_  His words shoot out in a rapid fire jumble that Gavin barely catches.

“I just got home,” Gavin says as he jogs up the short flight of steps to the front porch and thumbs through the keys for the one to the front door. Behind him the footsteps quicken their pace, pounding into the gravel, and despite himself his breath hitches as his pulse stutters into overdrive. His palms are suddenly clammy and he fumbles the keys. Swearing under his breath, he snatches them up and jams the house key into the lock.

_“Shit. Get inside, right now, and lock the door.”_

“I’m trying, I just —”

The lock snicks open at the same time something sharp pricks between his shoulder blades.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin is taken hostage by the escaped criminals.

-.-.-.-.-

Gavin freezes and grips the keys so hard his knuckles turn white as adrenaline floods his veins like ice water.

“Hang up the phone, blondie,” a deep voice hisses into his ear. Gavin shudders and stares unseeingly at the door, blinking rapidly. Oh god, Fritz was right. He was right. What are the odds? What the hell are the actual odds? A strangled laugh tries to punch out his throat, but he chokes it down.

The man jabs the blade into Gavin’s back hard enough to draw blood, making him flinch and gasp in pain. “I said, hang up the fucking phone.”

Gavin's hands are shaking so hard it’s a wonder he hasn’t dropped it. Swallowing harshly, he slowly lowers his phone in a series of short, jerky movements, letting it dangle limply at his side. Fritz’s tinny voice echoes in the silence, frantically calling Gavin’s name. Shit. Fritz is probably miles away, and he has no idea what’s happening. Shit, shit,  _shit_.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Gavin lunges sideways off the porch and lands next to a copse of trees. Jerking the phone back to his ear, he hurtles toward the neighbor’s yard, hoping she’s near a window and can see what’s happening. “Fritz, they’re here, at the house,” he heaves out as he jumps over the row of short hedges dividing their properties. “They —”

Something slams into Gavin’s jaw, snapping his head back. His phone flies through the air and clatters onto the road as he stumbles and trips over his own feet, flinging his arms out to stay upright. If he hits the ground he’s done, he’s dead. Lurching to his right, he manages to catch his balance and flings himself toward the phone, scooping it up — he can’t leave it, it’s his only connection to Fritz — and sprints across the lawn to the neighbor’s house, a cry for help on his lips. But his throat is dry and his tongue is glued to the roof of his mouth and nothing comes out when he tries to scream, like he can’t get enough air in his lungs.

He’s almost to her front door when a hulking arm hooks around Gavin’s chest and yanks him back against an equally hulking torso, and the cold, sharp metal of a knife presses against his throat. Gasping, he cringes away from the blade, instinctively clutching at the man’s arm with his free hand and squirming to escape his grasp, but the man’s hold on Gavin is firm.

“Stop moving or I’ll kill you right now,” the man hisses into Gavin’s ear. With a twist of his wrist he presses the blade harder against Gavin’s neck, teasing over his jugular. Gavin stills, nearly hyperventilating as his pulse thrashes in his ears.

“Come on, man. We don’t got all day,” a lightly accented voice calls from the sedan. Hispanic, maybe? Gavin can’t really tell, but he doesn’t have the chance think about it too much as the man with the knife yanks him around and drags him toward the old blue sedan. Aside from his captors’ car, the street is empty. Deserted as a church on Monday. Where are the neighbors? Why is nobody seeing this, stopping this, helping him? This is a nice neighborhood, a good part of town. Things like this don’t happen here. So why is this happening? Why?

As they near the car, the man holding Gavin at knifepoint shifts the blade to the back of his neck and shoves him forward. “Open the door and get in.” His tone promises a world of pain if Gavin disobeys.

Gulping in a breath to try and calm himself down, Gavin does as he’s told. He slides across a spliced vinyl seat with chunks of the underlying foam cushion jabbing through the cracks, then flattens himself against the opposite door, clasping his phone to his chest with shaking hands. The inside reeks of sweat and body odor and stale cigarette smoke.

Grinning through the scruffy reddish-brown knots snarling his face, the man who snatched Gavin grabs his upper arm as soon as he’s inside and pulls Gavin away from the door, wrenching a shrill yelp from his throat. He’s brawnier than the mug shot on the news gave him credit for. Bulging muscles strain against the sleeves of his stained black t-shirt.

“Hey there, blondie,” the man says, waggling the knife in Gavin’s face in a friendly reminder that he’s now a hostage. “You’re kind of cute.” He flashes Gavin a yellow, tobacco-stained grin and tugs him close enough that Gavin can smell the acrid stench of cigarettes on his breath. Gavin pulls a face and jerks back, wanting to be next to this vulgar oaf as much as he wants to jump in a sewer in his best Armani suit. The man just snickers and hauls him forward again, wrapping a meaty arm around his shoulders so he can’t pull away and stroking his hand along Gavin’s bicep. A ball of lead forms in his gut and bile burns the back of his throat. He swallows it down harshly, because as satisfying as it might be to throw up on his captor, he’s pretty damn sure he’ll stab Gavin for it or slit his throat or stab him and then slit his throat for good measure, and what little short-term satisfaction he’d get is just not worth dying for.

Sirens howl in the near distance like a pack of wolves on the hunt. The bearded man tenses and squeezes Gavin’s shoulder, looking fixedly down the street as though expecting a throng of cops to swing around the corner. A faint glimmer of hope breaks through the smoggy vapors of fear suffocating Gavin’s chest, and he just knows that Fritz is out there right now, looking for him. Fritz will rescue him. He must have known the criminals were in the neighborhood; that must be why he told Gavin to go anywhere but home, only Gavin was too goddamn proud to listen. Please be out there, he says silently to himself like a mantra. Please, please, please.

To Gavin’s extreme disappointment and the criminals’ obvious relief, no cops show up.

The driver jerks around in his seat and scowls back at them, beads of sweat dripping down the sides of his bald head. “Stop fucking around back there and tie him up.” His voice snaps like a whip.

Grumbling under his breath, the bearded criminal forces Gavin to kneel in the foot space amidst a heap of old fast food wrappers and discarded tissues and cigarette butts, then slots himself behind him, far too close for Gavin’s liking. He chokes on the cloud of B.O. and tobacco that shrouds him and tries to pull away, but the cool metal of another knife slides beneath his chin like a dangerous promise. Gavin’s heart snaps against his chest, mind numb and paralyzed with fear, and he hugs his phone to himself like a lifeline.

Of course the driver notices, because Gavin’s luck is currently for shit. Fast as a snake striking a mouse, he snatches the phone out of Gavin’s hands and tosses it onto the passenger seat out of his reach. “Can’t have you calling for help,” he says with a sneer, pinning Gavin in place with his cold, shark-eyed gaze. “Now put your hands up.”

Mindful of the blade pricking at the juncture of his throat and jaw, Gavin gives a small jerky nod to signal his cooperation and slowly raises his shaking hands to the level of his ears. He’s too afraid his voice will crack or jump an octave if he tries to speak. A pained whimper escapes his lips as the bearded criminal wrenches his hands behind his back, cinching them together with something cool and smooth, like a leather belt. It’s so tight he can feel his hands going numb from loss of circulation.

“You look good tied up,” the bearded criminal whispers against the back of his neck as he manhandles Gavin back onto the seat and drapes his massive arm around him again. “I like it.” Gavin shudders and squeezes his eyes shut to block it all out. This is just a dream. Just a bad dream. He fell asleep at his desk and is having a nightmare based on the news. He’ll wake up anytime now and laugh about it later with Fritz while they’re cuddling in post-coital bliss.

A cacophony of sirens and squealing tires explodes in the quiet street. Gavin snaps his eyes open in time to see a pack of squad cars and black SUVs careen around the corner and skid to a halt, surrounding the sedan. Warmth jolts through his body and his breath hitches as uniformed officers pour out of the cars, guns trained on the sedan, screaming orders for the criminals to come out with their hands up. The police! Yes! Oh thank god. Gavin cranes his neck to see if Fritz is leading the pack, or maybe Sharon and her team. Maybe both. Both is good.

Before he can process what’s happening, the bearded criminal yanks Gavin in front of him like a human shield and positions him so he’s behind the gap between the driver and passenger seats, in full view of the cops outside. A muscled arm snakes itself around Gavin’s waist, pulling him flush against the criminal’s chest, and the sharp edge of a knife jabs against his pulse point.

“Back off or blondie here’s dead,” the bearded criminal shouts, angling the blade so it catches the late afternoon light. Gavin winces at the assault to his eardrums. He has no idea if the cops can hear anything, but they get the gist nonetheless. From his new vantage point, Gavin watches as the nearest officers exchange wide-eyed looks and slowly shuffle back, obviously waiting for someone in charge to tell them how to handle this unexpected situation.

For what seems like hours, nothing happens. The cops confer quietly outside, casting furtive frowns at the car. Gavin locks eyes with one of the officers but flushes and quickly lowers his gaze, hating how exposed he is, out on display like he’s some kind of goddamn trophy. Suddenly he’s glad Fritz isn’t here to see him like this, so helpless and weak. Especially after Fritz warned him, practically begged him to go to the precinct. God, he wishes he’d just listened for once instead of being so stubborn.

Movement outside pulls him from his thoughts, and he looks up to see a tall, dark-haired man in a blue FBI jacket striding forward through the clustered uniformed cops, a bullhorn clutched at his side. Gavin’s heart plummets into his stomach as he realizes who it is and he pulls back, needing to hide before he’s seen, but the driver reaches back and grabs a fistful of his hair to hold him in place at the same time the bearded criminal slices the blade deeper into his throat. He flinches as blood trickles down his neck.

Outside, Agent Fritz Howard raises the bullhorn to his lips. “Israel Espinoza. Joseph McCray,” he says in a deep, authoritative voice that would have Gavin burning up for entirely different reasons under very different circumstances. “Release your —” Fritz’s jaw drops and his eyes widen. “Gavin,” he chokes out, voice strangled even with the bullhorn amplifying the volume.

Every eye on the street swivels onto Gavin, burning into him like a thousand laser beams. A hot flood of shame washes over him and he can’t bear to look Fritz in the eye. Biting his lip almost hard enough to draw blood, he hunches his shoulders and stares at Fritz’s shiny black shoes. God, he hates himself for letting this happen. For putting Fritz in this position. At this point he’d give anything to make it all end, to just make it stop.

The driver, whose name is apparently Israel Espinoza, slaps the side of his head, and with a start Gavin realizes that he asked him a question. “I said, you know this guy? Answer me,” he snarls, shaking Gavin when he doesn’t immediately reply. The blade snicks his skin again, and Gavin flinches as another stream of blood joins the first.

“I — yes, yes I know him,” he gasps out.

Apparently this isn’t good enough, because Espinoza slaps him harder. “How?”

Gavin knows he should lie and tell them that Fritz is a friend or a distant cousin, anything but the truth, but even now, even here, he just can’t make himself do it. Licking his dry lips, he swallows harshly and says, “He’s…my partner.”

Espinoza’s brows furrow as he glances from Gavin to Fritz and back again. Then a slow, wicked grin settles on his face as he realizes exactly what Gavin means by ‘partner,’ and he grabs Gavin’s phone from the passenger seat, waggling it in the air. Fritz gets the gist and digs his phone out of his pants pocket. Moments later the shrill ringtone fills the car.

“I got your boy here, Agent,” Espinoza says, canting his head at Gavin without taking his eyes off Fritz. A sour taste burns in the back of Gavin’s throat and he squeezes his eyes shut for a moment, wishing he could spontaneously combust and put himself out of this misery. “You want him back, tell your men to stand down and let us through.”

Fritz is still gaping at Gavin, shell-shocked, the forgotten bullhorn drifting back down to his side. Gavin longs to dive out the passenger door and run to Fritz, letting him know Gavin’s safe, he’s fine, and he’s sorry for being such an idiot, so, so sorry. But he knows even trying will get him killed and that means never seeing Fritz again, and worse, hurting Fritz even more than he already has, and that’s not something he has the strength or the desire to do.

When Fritz still hasn’t said anything a few moments later, Espinoza jerks his head at McCray. The bearded criminal squeezes the handle of the blade and digs the tip further into the juncture of Gavin’s neck and jaw, forcing him to tilt his head back and expose his throat. “Or we can just kill him right in front of you. Your call,” Espinoza tells Fritz. Gavin’s chest is so tight it hurts and he can’t breathe. Being humiliated like this is one thing, but being humiliated like this in front of Fritz? Forget spontaneous combustion. He wishes the ground would bottom out in a sink hole and swallow the car whole.

The direct threat against Gavin’s life seems to snap Fritz out of his shock. Nostrils flaring he takes a few steps toward the car, planting his legs wide, and sweeps the bullhorn back up to his mouth. Several uniformed officers fan out behind him, guns trained at the windshield. “Let me talk to Gavin.”

A hot flush burns across Gavin’s face. No, he can’t talk to Fritz. Not when the last thing Fritz said to him was to go to the precinct, and his response had basically been “haha, nope. Bye.” If he’d listened, this wouldn’t be happening. It’s all his fault and he knows it, and he doesn’t need Fritz to rub it in.

But Espinoza shrugs and presses the phone to his ear, and Fritz lowers the bullhorn to keep their conversation private.  _“Gavin.”_  Fritz’s voice bursts across the line like sunlight bursting from behind a cloud, and a pang fills Gavin’s chest with yearning.

He has to swallow hard twice before he can summon the nerve to reply. “Hi Fritz.” His voice comes out a shrill, strangled croak. Clearing his throat, he tries again. “Hi.”

Outside, Fritz takes a half-step toward the car, then apparently thinks better of it and aborts the movement.  _“Are you okay? Are you hurt?”_

Gavin honestly has no idea how to answer that. He’s definitely not okay, and he’s a little banged up and bleeding, but otherwise not hurt. “I’ve…been better,” he finally says, since this is the closest to the truth he can get. A staticky sound buzzes over the line like Fritz sighed or laughed into the phone.

Before either of them can say anything else, Espinoza jerks the phone away. “Okay, you talked to him. Now fucking stand down or I’m gonna kill your pretty little boyfriend.” Gavin cuts his eyes at the driver at that. He could die happy if no one calls him that ever again. The unexpected prickle of irritation heartens him and he clings to it like a security blanket, wrapping it around himself to stave off the fear snapping and crackling like a livewire at the edges his mind.

Pursing his lips, Fritz juts out his chin and raises the bullhorn. “How about this. You let him go and then get out of the car and lay on the ground with your hands behind your heads, and we settle this without anyone ending up dead.”

Espinoza just laughs. “You think I’m playing, Agent?”

“No, I don’t think you’re playing, Espinoza. I’m not playing either. I’m completely serious.” Fritz’s voice is calm and steady and strong, like waves rolling against a sandy beach. “Let Gavin go and then slowly get out of the car, and no one gets hurt. It’s as simple as that. What do you say?”

Espinoza’s lip curls and he scoffs at Fritz. “You think I’m stupid enough to fall for that? I ain’t going to prison. If it means I have to kill your boy and run all of you over, I’ll do it.” Signaling the end of their conversation, Espinoza tosses Gavin’s phone onto the passenger seat and revs the engine threateningly, making several of the officers flinch. To their credit, none of them take a single step back.

Gavin tenses and a bead of sweat rolls down his back. He hopes he’s not about to become another collateral damage statistic. Surely Fritz won’t allow that. He won’t let Gavin die here today, not like this. Despite himself, images of his own dead body fill his head, riddled with bullet holes and lying in a pool of blood. It’ll be all over the news, top story for at least a week. ‘Prominent Defense Attorney Gavin Q. Baker III Killed in Police Standoff.’ They’ll show his photograph, the poised, dignified one he took for his picture on the partners’ wall at the firm, and then cut to his corpse on a stretcher, covered in a blood-stained —

He gasps as Espinoza stomps on the gas and guns the car toward the end of the street opposite Fritz, slamming Gavin hard against McCray’s chest. The officers in their path dive out their way as they narrowly squeeze between two squad cars, ripping off a side mirror and bashing in a bumper. Gavin watches in the rear view mirror as the cops behind them surge forward and open fire. Bullets ping off the car, exploding the back window. Gavin flinches as shattered glass cascades around him, but the knife at his throat and the criminal’s arm around his waist keep him from taking cover.

Cackling like he’s having the time of his life, Espinoza flips off the police and whips around a corner. Gavin catches one last glimpse in the rear view mirror of Fritz charging down the street, gun trained on the car, and then he’s gone.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The criminals take Gavin to their hideaway.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW for a scene of non-consensual touching.

-.-.-.-.-

Espinoza weaves through the neighborhood at gut-wrenching speeds and then pulls out onto a main thoroughfare, blasting by other cars and weaving back and forth between lanes fast enough to make Gavin’s stomach churn. Swallowing hard, he braces his feet against the floorboards, cringing at every near miss and dizzying swerve. All he can think is that they’re going too fast and he doesn’t have on his seat belt, because right now those are the safest thoughts he can let himself have.

Sirens scream to life behind them and soon half a dozen squad cars roar onto the street in their wake, lights flashing. Up ahead even more black-and-whites join the fray, cutting them off. A tiny bubble of hope swells in Gavin’s chest — this is it, this is his rescue — but it bursts as Espinoza veers hard onto a side street, temporarily thwarting the cops’ attempt to corral them.

Despite the high speed chase most of the adrenaline from Gavin’s capture has worn off, leaving him shaky and jittery. Unable to keep himself upright, he sags against McCray and stares forlornly out the windshield. A small part of him longs to ask what they intend to do with him. Surely they can’t hold him hostage forever? But the larger part just wants to pretend like the criminals aren’t even there, like this is some kind of joy ride he’s taking with Fritz, even though Fritz always drives five miles under the speed limit and not like a reckless lunatic.

Besides, he’s pretty sure this is going to end in somebody’s funeral.

Something blunt pokes him in the side, making him jump. “Having fun yet, blondie?”

McCray. Gavin grits his teeth and pointedly says nothing, watching the buildings flash by outside like he’s getting paid to do it, though he does sit up a little straighter and rolls his shoulders to ease the growing ache in his joints.

McCray gives a throaty chuckle that grates on Gavin’s already raw nerves. “Ignoring me, huh? Real cute. I’m gonna have so much fun with you.” Chuckling again, he runs his hand up and down Gavin’s side in a very suggestive manner, making Gavin’s skin crawl. Ignore it, he tells himself. Ignore it, ignore it, ignore it. Hopefully the idiot will get bored and leave him the hell alone if he refuses to engage. Then something hot and wet swipes along the shell of his ear, and he chokes when he realizes it’s McCray's tongue. Oh god. The sirens swell in volume as Espinoza makes another sharp turn, and Gavin prays the cops catch them before they get wherever they’re going, because he has zero desire to find out exactly what McCray means by ‘fun.’ All the educated guesses his mind helpfully supplies make him want to throw up.

For what seems like a lifetime Espinoza barrels through the city at breakneck speed, followed by what sounds like every cop in Los Angeles. Then the failing sun bleeds out and the day bruises into night, shrouding the city in an almost total darkness that swallows up the navy blue sedan and throws Gavin’s would-be rescuers off their trail. The fear lurking at the edges of his mind grows steadily stronger the darker it gets, shredding his safety blanket of irritation. By the time Espinoza pulls into the back parking lot of a condemned apartment building, Gavin’s pulse is racing again and he’s gulping down breaths to stay quiet.

Espinoza jumps out of the car almost before the tires have stopped turning, leaving him alone with McCray. Gavin half-heartedly hopes they’ll abandon him here with the car and flee on foot, but of course they don’t. McCray flings open the door and then hauls Gavin out. His knees are wobbly and he almost falls, but the bearded criminal catches him under his arms and sets him back on his feet, shoving him toward a dark, dilapidated building that looks like the next earthquake will knock it down.

A few dying street lamps line the street nearby, casting sickly, flickering orange light onto the sidewalk. Shabby buildings huddle together like they’d all collapse if even one of them fell. The area looks completely abandoned, but Gavin can’t let what might be his last golden opportunity to escape, or at least call for help, pass without doing something.

Gathering his nerve, he bolts to his left toward the street, screaming “Help!” at the top of his lungs. Running with his hands tied behind his back is awkward, but damn it, he does it. One of the criminals swears, and two sets of heavy feet pound the pavement behind him. He’s almost to the litter-clogged curb and halfway through his second scream when one of the criminals punches him hard enough to send him tumbling to the ground, scraping his shoulders and knees and knocking the breath out of his lungs as he lands in a sprawled heap. Coughing, he ignores his newest injuries and lurches up to his knees, but before he can take off again a hand fists into his hair and yanks him up with a shrill yelp.

“Shut up,” McCray growls, clamping a huge hand over Gavin’s mouth before he can scream again. But his depressingly short taste of freedom after what seems like hours of captivity has made him wild, and rather than submit meekly like he did before Gavin thrashes in the man’s grip, jabbing backward with his bound hands and kicking at the man’s kneecaps and biting hard on the thick, meaty fingers over his mouth. Howling in pain, McCray releases him and Gavin dashes blindly away, breath bursting in and out of his heaving chest.

He gets maybe ten feet away before someone grabs him and effortlessly flings him onto the pavement, planting a knee into his back to hold him down. Shit. Spitting out gravel and dirt and blood from his newly cut lip, Gavin struggles to throw the criminal off balance enough that he can get away, but the all too familiar feeling of cool, sharp metal slides against his throat and all the fight drains out of him, leaving him gasping and trembling. Even though he just failed spectacularly, there’s no way they’re not going to punish him for attempting to escape. He just knows it.

Right on cue, Espinoza lumbers into view and kicks Gavin in the side, making him cry out as a starburst of pain sends fiery jolts of adrenaline screaming along his nerves. “You little fucker,” Espinoza snarls, kicking him again. “If that FBI agent wasn’t your boyfriend, I’d kill you right here.” Gavin moans and curls as much into a protective ball as he can with McCray’s knee on his back and the knife against his throat. He’s suddenly very, very glad that he told them Fritz is his partner and not just some random friend. Apparently it’s the only thing keeping him alive, though he can’t help but wonder how much longer that will be, FBI agent boyfriend or not. Sirens wail in the distance, and he hopes it’s long enough for Fritz and the police to find him and save him from this nightmare.

“Come on, let’s go.” Espinoza whirls around and stalks off toward the apartment building. McCray finally removes his knee from Gavin’s back and forces him to his feet.

“You’re gonna regret that little stunt, blondie,” he hisses into Gavin’s ear, marching him at knifepoint in Espinoza’s wake. Ice floods Gavin’s veins, but he doesn’t regret his brief moment of rebellion. It proves he still has some fight left, that he’s not completely under their thumbs, knives or no knives. Fritz would be proud. At least Gavin hopes so.

Espinoza leads them down a series of dusty, graffiti-streaked corridors lined with broken glass and flaky chunks of drywall before muscling open the door to what was probably once a nice little one-bedroom apartment. Against all odds, because that’s apparently the shape of Gavin’s luck tonight, the apartment still has electricity flowing through the dilapidated fixtures. Ratty green curtains frame the window, and there’s enough grime on the glass to hide the glare of lights from any curious eyes that happen to wander by in a squad car.

Whoever the previous tenants were must have left in a hurry, abandoning most, if not all, of their possessions. Espinoza goes to the window, flicking back the raggedy curtain and peering through the film of muck into the parking lot. McCray nudges Gavin none too gently toward the kitchenette, where two rickety chairs sit in front of an equally rickety round table. The floor creaks under his feet, making him glad they’re not on the second story, and the musty stench of mold and mildew fills the air with the incense of decay. Something shifts and skitters behind the walls and he grimaces. Rats. Oh dear lord, that’s just fabulous.

“Sit down.” McCray slams Gavin into one of the chairs before he has a chance to comply.

Apparently satisfied that they weren’t followed, Espinoza joins them in the kitchenette. “Go find something to tie him up with. I’ll watch him.” He unpockets his knife and presses the blade flush against Gavin’s jugular so he can’t make a mad dash for the door. Gavin winces, but at this point he’s too exhausted to do much besides scowl up at the criminal smirking down at him and imagine how he’d look in handcuffs and an orange jumpsuit and a life sentence in a maximum security prison.

McCray nods and disappears. Bangs, clangs and thuds clatter through the apartment as he rummages around. Gavin shifts, trying to get comfortable in the rock hard seat. He fervently hopes they won’t find anything and they’ll have to lock him in the bathroom, which in his very vivid imagination has a window just barely big enough for him to squeeze himself through. He holds onto the daydream until McCray returns to the kitchenette with a thick coil of rope, and his shoulders droop like they’re made of lead.

A heavy sense of hopelessness settles over him as McCray slips the belt-thing off his wrists and yanks them through the slats in the chair, twining the rope around them in a figure eight pattern and cinching it between them so he can’t wriggle his hands free. He straps Gavin’s ankles to the chair legs next, then winds the rest of the rope around his chest and stomach so tightly it digs into his skin, making it hard for him to breathe. That done, McCray steps back into Gavin’s line of sight and leers at him like he’s a free gourmet buffet. The criminal’s tongue darts out and licks along his parted lips like a worm poking itself out of the dirt.

“I’ll take first watch if you want to try and get some sleep,” McCray says without taking his eyes off Gavin.

Espinoza rubs the knuckles of his free hand along his chin, then shrugs. “As long as you quit messing with the hostage and watch out for the cops.”

McCray nods so fast he looks like a dashboard bobble head on a bumpy country road and strides over to the window, planting himself next to a raggedy sofa. “I’ll stay right here the whole time,” he says, obviously trying for earnest and trustworthy. All Gavin sees is a fox trying to convince the farmer to let him guard the hen house. He stares beseechingly up at Espinoza, willing him to see through the ruse and take first watch himself.

Espinoza grunts. “You better. If I come out here and see you anywhere near him, I’ll gut you.” With that he pockets his knife and disappears down the short hallway into the single bedroom.

As soon as his boss is gone, the bearded criminal licks his lips and smirks over at Gavin. An icy fist clenches Gavin’s chest. Even though he knows it won’t do any good, he wriggles his hands and yanks at his bonds, trying to find a weak spot he can exploit to free himself, but McCray obviously knew his way around a rope. All his struggling does his chafe his wrists, so with a frustrated grunt he tilts his head back and frowns up at the loops of loose wire drooping from the cracks in the mold-stained ceiling.

Great job, Gavin. No really, great job. Fabulous, even. He huffs a breath out his nose. Goddamn it. How could he let this happen to himself? Better yet, how the hell did this happen at all? There are literally millions of people in Los Angeles. The criminals had a one in several millions-chance of running into Gavin. So of course they did. He’s almost tempted to believe in God, because the series of implausible coincidences that created this situation smacks of divine intervention, and not the good kind. Plus, if God were real, Gavin could hate him and rant and rail at him and make himself feel better.

One thing’s for sure. When he gets out of here alive — because damn it, he  _is_  getting out of here alive — he’s making Fritz give him self-defense lessons.

Lights flash outside, and a tiny golden bubble of hope swells in his chest when he recognizes the red, yellow, and blue lights of a police cruiser. McCray stiffens and ducks to the side of the window, flattening himself against the grimy wall. Gavin strains against the ropes to see outside, but he’s too far away and the glass is too filthy for him to make anything out.

Two car doors creak open and slam shut, and something flutters in Gavin’s stomach. They got out! Maybe they’ll see the car, recognize it from the APB that’s surely been issued by now, and comb the area for signs of the suspects. His pulse jacks up as muffled voices reach his ears. If he can hear them, surely they could hear him too. Almost giddy with a new surge of adrenaline, he takes a deep breath as quietly as he can. “HE—”

McCray is suddenly beside him, shoving something scratchy down his throat and clamping a hand over his mouth. Gavin gags and jerks his head around to dislodge it, but the criminal’s grip is sturdy. With a growl he grabs a handful of Gavin’s hair and wrenches his head back, holding him still. How is Espinoza not hearing this? He must be deaf or dead to the world.

“Shut up or I swear I’ll snap your neck,” McCray hisses into his ear.

White-hot fury surges through Gavin. His rescuers are right there, right outside, so close. With a muffled snarl he strains against the ropes even as they gouge into him and jerks his hands against the bindings and butts his head back at McCray’s face, earning a sharp yowl, but the man refuses to let go, and the ropes refuse to unravel.

Then the two doors slam shut again and the lights drift off down the street, leaving darkness in their wake.

Gavin’s heart stops and he stares unseeingly at the window. No. No, no, no. They left without even investigating the building, the most obvious place he could be. They could have saved him, could have ended this all now, but they left.  _They left._

Gavin’s fury abandons him as quickly as it came and he slumps in the chair with a choked sob. His throat burns and with another sob he squeezes his eyes shut against his moldy dump of a prison, not wanting to look at it, not wanting to be here, wishing he was home with Fritz. Hot tears stream down his face, plopping onto his lenses as he breaks down and cries, chest heaving.

He’s so caught up in his own misery he doesn’t register that McCray has moved until rough fingers brush away his tears. Flinching, he jerks his head up to find the criminal squatting in front of him, one hand on Gavin’s knee, the other caressing his face in a mockery of tenderness.

“You’re pretty when you cry,” McCray murmurs, running the pad of his thumb along Gavin’s cheek. The hand on Gavin’s knee travels up his thigh and squeezes his hip.

Gavin breaks out in a cold sweat and jiggles his leg to shake off the criminal’s grip, but it only encourages him to squeeze again, harder, his thumb sliding between Gavin’s legs. Oh god no. No. No, this can’t be happening. He can’t let this happen, not after everything else. Unable to hold back a whimper as the criminal gropes him, he twists his face out of the man’s grasp and tries in vain to shrink away from the unwanted touches.

“Ah, ah, ah,” McCray says, grabbing Gavin’s chin and forcing Gavin to look at him. “Just relax, blondie. Let it happen. You know you want it, been asking for it all day.”

Gavin moans and shakes his head as best as he can. Tears stream down his now burning cheeks as his body hardens against his will.

“See? You like this,” the criminal breathes, his eyes blown black with lust. He lets go of Gavin’s chin and slowly strokes him from his neck to his waist, pausing to fondle a nipple beneath his blue-and-white striped Charvet shirt. He presses so close to Gavin that Gavin can feel the man’s hot, rancid breath on his neck.

Breath hitching, Gavin shakes his head again and yells “No! Stop!” as best he can around whatever’s in his mouth. McCray ignores him in favor of leaning in and licking along his collar bone. Gavin shudders as bile burns at the back of his throat, but he swallows it down, has to, unless he wants to choke to death on his own vomit. It’s not at all the way he wants to go, but the way things are going now, it’s looking like a better and better alternative by the second.

He squeezes his eyes shut and bites back another whimper as the man tugs down the zipper to his pants and slips his hand into Gavin’s boxers, coaxing him to further hardness. Another stream of tears cascades down his face. Oh god, he’ll never be able to look Fritz in the eye again after this. If he even gets to look at Fritz ever again. His stomach roils and he sobs, longing to see Fritz, willing him to burst into the room and save him from this. He’ll make it up to Fritz somehow, but if Fritz ends up leaving, he won’t blame him. What kind of freak gets hard when he’s being molested? Even so the idea of being alone depresses him and he dissolves into tears, breath hitching around pained whimpers.

“Shh,” McCray says, pressing closer so their bodies are nearly flush. “Be quiet. You like this. Just be quiet and take it.” Fisting a hand in Gavin’s hair, he tilts Gavin’s head back and bites along his neck. No. That’s what Fritz does. Only Fritz can do that. Gavin struggles to get away, his body clenching with dry heaves.

The criminal’s face tightens and he pulls away, frowning down at Gavin. “Stop doing that,” he says, yanking Gavin’s hair when he doesn’t stop, when he can’t make himself stop retching in fear and disgust. Mouth twisting into a snarl, McCray pulls back and backhands Gavin across the face. He gasps, cheek stinging. Then McCray grabs his face again, hand clenched around his jaw, forcing him to look up at the criminal through watery eyes and splotchy, tear-stained glasses.

“I said stop it,” McCray hisses, “or I’ll —”

The front door flies off its hinges as armed cops swarm into the room.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Fritz to the rescue!

-.-.-.-.-

“Police!”

“Get down on the ground!”

“Drop your weapon!”

“Put your hands over your head!”

Despite the thing gagging him, Gavin’s mouth falls open and he gasps as Fritz barges in on the heels of a uniformed officer, gun drawn and trained at McCray’s back. Their eyes lock for a second, and times seems to slow as Fritz stares at him, eyes widening a fraction. Then Fritz’s entire face hardens and those soft brown eyes narrow to flinty slits. Gavin averts his gaze, hot shame washing over him and soaking him to his core.

“Step away from the hostage,” Fritz barks as a cluster of cops breaks off from the group. Moving in formation down the hallway, they rush into the bedroom, shouting the same orders.

In a heartbeat McCray scrambles around the chair and crouches behind Gavin, pulling his knife back out and slotting it against Gavin’s throat. “I’ll kill him. Won’t think twice,” he says, deliberately nicking Gavin’s neck so the cops know he means business. Gavin flinches as his skin parts beneath the blade, but at this point his system’s so flooded with adrenaline and he’s so overcome with humiliation he barely feels the pain. Without the criminal blocking the way he’s entirely exposed to Fritz, and surely Fritz must notice the shameful hardness tenting his boxers. He curls into himself as much as he can, but the criminal pulls him back up, forcing his body to unfold.

“Get away from him. Now,” Fritz says, voice like granite. Shouts erupt in the background followed by a series of thuds. More shouting. Then the group of uniformed cops appears in the hallway, triumphantly dragging out a roughed up Espinoza in handcuffs. Fritz shakes his head and gestures with a hand and they pause, eyeing the situation in the front room.

Behind Gavin McCray gives a sharp, hysterical laugh, breath huffing along Gavin’s skin and making the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. “What’re you gonna do if I don’t? You can’t shoot me or you’ll hit him too. So do both of us a favor and back the fuck up.”

Fritz’s grip on his gun is firm and his aim is unwavering. “I’ll tell you one more time, McCray. Drop the knife and let Gavin go.”

For a second that seems to stretch into eternity, nothing happens. Then everything happens at once.

Bellowing incoherently, McCray jerks Gavin’s head back and slides the knife across his throat. Gunfire erupts from the left and the knife tumbles from the criminal’s hand before it slices more than half an inch into Gavin, clattering onto the stained linoleum. Seconds later a heavy thud echoes its landing and pained wails fill the apartment.

“You shot me,” McCray shrieks. At Fritz’s signal two uniformed cops converge on him and, based on the scraping and grunting, haul him to his feet. “Police brutality,” he adds as the officers drag him into the center of the room and force his hands behind his back so they can cuff him. Blood seeps from his left shoulder, staining his shirt. Seeing his tormentor in handcuffs and obvious agony makes Gavin go limp with relief. It’s over. It’s finally over. Thank god.

No, not god. Thank  _Fritz_.

As the uniformed cops handle the suspects, Fritz holsters his weapon and rushes to Gavin. Kneeling in front of him, he tugs the gag out of his mouth and tosses it carelessly onto the floor next to the knife. “My god, Gavin. Are you okay? Are you all right? Are you hurt?”

Gavin mumbles something vaguely affirmative and drops his chin to his chest, unable to look Fritz in the eye. If he didn’t notice Gavin’s shameful erection before he’s bound to notice it now. His eyes water and burn, but he blinks back the tears even as his chin trembles and his breath stutters like he’s going to start crying again at any second. But he can’t cry in front of Fritz. Won’t. He’s already seen Gavin helpless; he can’t let Fritz see him weak too.

Fritz must sense his distress and runs his hands soothingly down Gavin’s shoulders while making soft, reassuring noises. “Hey, hey, hey. It’s okay. You’re okay. You’re safe now, okay? You’re safe.” Still rubbing calming circles into Gavin’s shoulders and back, Fritz turns toward the cops crowding the front room. “I need one of you guys to come over here and help me untie him.” One of them peels away from the group and instantly starts tugging at the ropes securing Gavin’s wrists.

It’s all a bit too much for him to take in, and he can’t choke back the sob that punches out his throat. “Fritz. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. Please, you have to believe me, I didn’t want —”

Fritz presses a finger to his lip, shushing him. “It’s okay.”

But it’s not okay. He has to tell Fritz, make him understand that Gavin didn’t want it, didn’t want to be touched like that. Fritz has to understand. “He touched me,” Gavin blurts out as the officer untying him finishes unbinding his hands and moves on to the ropes twining around his chest and stomach. The second his hands are free, Gavin zips up his pants with fumbling fingers and folds his hands over his lap. “He touched me and…he made me…” But he can’t finish, can’t admit it aloud. Heat flushes his face and he hangs his head again, biting his trembling bottom lip.

Fritz gently tilts his chin up, brows furrowed in confusion. “What do you mean he touched you? What did he make you do?”

Gavin whimpers, sounding pathetic even to his own ears, and looks pointedly down at his groin, which is finally, mercifully, going soft. Fritz follows his gaze, and he knows when Fritz understands when his hands clamp down on Gavin’s shoulders and his eyes harden again into the steely gaze of a federal agent. Gavin swallows thickly, but before he can explain himself, Fritz pushes up and spins on his heel toward the front room, leaving Gavin alone in the kitchenette with the uniformed officer.

Squeezing his eyes shut as a tear slides down his cheek, Gavin presses a fist to his lips to hold back a sob and wraps his other arm around himself. Of course Fritz is angry; he has every right to be. Who gets hard when they’re being molested? He’s sick. Disgusting. Fritz is better off —

A meaty thud and sharp cry ring out from the front room. Gavin’s eyes pop open in time to see McCray hit the floor, blood streaming from his obviously broken nose. He blinks, not entirely sure what he’s seeing until several officers converge on Fritz and haul him away from the criminal. Their voices admonish him for striking a handcuffed prisoner while their faces give away the fact that they don’t give a shit. To them, the sleazeball got what he so richly deserved.

Oh.

_Oh_.

Well. Looks like Gavin has nothing to worry about after all. The pressure in his chest eases and he takes a deep breath, slumping back in the chair.

“Police brutality,” McCray shouts again to a room full of deaf ears as two cops lug him back to his feet. One of them yanks the ratty curtain off the wall and half-heartedly uses it to staunch the blood flowing down his face into his beard.

Fritz shakes the officers off and strides back to the kitchenette just as the cop finishes untying Gavin. Before Gavin even has a chance to thank the man, Fritz pulls Gavin up into a tight embrace that squeezes most of the air out of his lungs and crushes his side where Espinoza kicked him, making him suck his teeth in pain. “Don’t you ever do anything like that to me ever again,” Fritz says, voice muffled against Gavin’s hair. “I don’t know whether to slap you silly or, or, or kiss you senseless.”

“You could do both,” Gavin manages to squeak out.

Fritz just laughs and does neither, squeezing him harder like he’s afraid Gavin is going to vanish if he lets go. Gavin can’t hide the hiss of pain this time, prompting Fritz to ease up on the embrace and step back, though his hands still grip Gavin’s upper arms like vises. “You’re hurt,” he says, giving Gavin a critical once-over.

Gavin shrugs a shoulder. “It’s nothing.” Honestly, he can’t be bothered to care now that Fritz is here. Whatever’s wrong will heal eventually.

Fritz gives him an ‘I don’t believe you’ look. “It’s obviously not nothing. What happened?”

Gavin shrugs again, but even if he wanted to he can’t make himself lie to Fritz, either directly or by omission. “They kicked me, but I’ll be fine.”

“Because you’re going to the hospital.”

Gavin grimaces. He hates hospitals. Hates the hours of anxious waiting and the antiseptic smell and the endless beeping and booping of machines and, worse of all, the needles. Shots, IVs, those evil things they collect blood samples with, all of them. Just no. Shuddering at the thought, he presses close to Fritz and wraps his arms around him half as a distraction tactic and half as an honest need for comfort after the hellacious day he’s had. “I’ll be fine,” he says again, nuzzling a kiss into Fritz’s neck.

Fritz huffs, but wraps his arms very carefully around Gavin. “Sure. After you go to the hospital.”

Gavin grunts. So much for distraction tactics. He pulls back and looks his beautiful, beloved boyfriend dead in the eye so he knows Gavin is beyond serious about this. “Fritz. I am not going to the hospital.”

Fritz meets his gaze head on. “Yes, you are.”

Gavin glares at Fritz.

Fritz glares at Gavin.

Gavin goes to the hospital.

He ends up staying overnight and most of the next day. After making him suffer through a battery of tests (and the insertion of an IV, because apparently he’s dehydrated and why he can’t just drink water until he’s re-hydrated he’ll never know), the doctors are finally satisfied that he’s not bleeding internally and all his internal organs are fine. Nevertheless, they send him home with strict orders to take the rest of the week off to ‘recuperate,’ because doctors hate lawyers and are probably rubbing their hands in glee at the idea of taking one out of commission. Never mind the fact that Gavin would be the one defending them if they found themselves on the wrong side of a medical malpractice suit.

Ingrates.

He huffs and puffs and throws a fit, but one look from Fritz and he caves, agreeing to stay home until next Monday even though it’s only Wednesday. Shit. Just shit. Gavin can feel the crazy creeping up on him now.

It’s late in the day by the time they let him go. Crimson throbs at the horizon and fades upward to a delicate pink. Wispy white clouds brush across the pale face of the moon, just a ghostly crescent in the early evening sky. Gavin scowls up at it, still too pissed off at the world to appreciate the natural beauty of a gorgeous sunset.

“I can walk, you know,” he grouses as Fritz pushes his wheelchair through the lobby and out to the patient drop-off area where Fritz’s blue Toyota is idling by the curb.

“Standard discharge procedure.” Fritz sounds like he’s about to start whistling a jaunty tune. He’s obviously enjoying this way too much. Gavin rolls his eyes and picks at the large bandage covering the cut on his neck where McCray tried to slit his throat. It itches horribly, but Fritz swats his hand away before he can get any relief. “Leave that alone.”

“Yes, mother,” Gavin snarks as Fritz parks him next to the car and opens the passenger door for him. He manages to stand up on his own before Fritz wraps an arm around him and guides him into the seat like he’s a newborn foal taking his first steps in the world. He huffs and crosses his arms over his chest, mindful of the tender bruise purpling his side. “I swear to god, Fritz, knock it off. I’m not going to break.” Fritz just smiles down at him, pressing a kiss to his temple before shutting the door and wheeling the chair back to the hospital lobby. The sunset paints his back in soft pastels as the doors swish open to let him in.

Gavin sighs and leans back in the seat. All sniping aside, he’s nothing but grateful to Fritz, and not just for saving his stubborn ass. Instead of rightfully claiming the bust as his own, he graciously let one of the other agents take credit (and the accompanying pile of paperwork) so he could personally escort Gavin to the nearest hospital. Fritz was probably just making sure that Gavin actually went to the hospital and stayed there long enough for treatment, but still, Gavin appreciates it. Especially since he got to squeeze Fritz’s hand to a pulp when the nurse inserted the IV and had someone to talk to during the long, boring stretches of downtime between tests and results.

The doors slide open as Fritz comes back outside, breaking into a light jog as soon as his shoes hit the concrete. The fiery sky burnishes his face a warm bronze, like he’s glowing with an inner light. Smiling to himself, Gavin steeples his hands together and taps his fingers against his lips. Fritz truly is the kindest, most patient man on the planet. And so very, very gorgeous. It’s enough to leave Gavin feeling overwhelmed, but in a pleasant sort of way, like the warm buzz of a good wine. As Fritz slams his door shut and shifts the car into drive, drifting out of the parking lot at a safe and responsible ten miles an hour, Gavin is struck by an aching need to show Fritz how grateful he truly is.

He can think of a few ways.

His lips quirk into a smirk as a delicious little plan starts forming in his mind. 


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Gavin shows Fritz how much he appreciates the rescue.
> 
> (Schmoopy porn ahead folks!)

 

-.-.-.-.-

When they finally get home the sun has set completely, and the few stars visible inside the city limits twinkle brightly in the velvet sky. To make up for his earlier sniping, Gavin meekly allows Fritz to help him out of the car and situate him on the living room sofa. Slipping off his shoes, he folds his legs beneath him and props his elbows on the arm of the sofa, cupping his chin as he stares out the floor-to-ceiling back windows at the golden lights of Los Angeles shining below. In the distance, colorful Mickey Mouse ears and smiley faces burst in the sky as Disneyland’s obligatory evening fireworks show gets underway. Smiling, he hums under his breath as he waits for Fritz to get done doing whatever he’s doing.

A few minutes later Fritz finally joins him, wrapping his arm around Gavin’s shoulder and giving him an affectionate squeeze. “What would you like for dinner?” he asks, tugging Gavin away from the light show and capturing his lips in a long, slow kiss. Gavin parts his lips as he reaches up and traces Fritz’s jaw with his fingertips, allowing Fritz’s tongue to slip into his mouth. Warm tingles explode in his chest and flood his groin as their tongues swirl and sweep across each other in a playful duel.

“Mmmm. You,” Gavin says with a wink when he finally needs air and pulls back. Shifting himself so he’s facing Fritz instead of the windows, he nuzzles into Fritz’s chest, inhaling his warm, woodsy musk.

Fritz chuckles and rubs his hand up and down Gavin’s arm. “I was thinking something a little more edible.”

“So was I,” Gavin says, letting his fingertips fall from Fritz’s face to skim and dance along his neck and chest. Fritz’s breath catches and Gavin can’t help the smirk that spreads across his face as Fritz’s cock hardens, bulging his pants.

Then Fritz strokes his hand up Gavin’s thigh, and he’s suddenly back in the chair in the moldy apartment and it’s McCray’s hand on him and oh god no. His heart surges in his chest and he freezes, but then the moment passes, and he’s back on the plush olive green sofa with Fritz, his wonderful, perfect Fritz, and he mentally beats back the slimy black fear trying to ooze into his mind with everything he has. That atrocious excuse of a human being is not taking this from him, hell no. Fuck McCray, and not in fun way either.

When Gavin comes back to himself he finds Fritz blinking at him, mouth open. “…you okay?” Fritz asks, hand frozen on Gavin’s thigh like he’s afraid to make any sudden moves.

Taking a deep breath, Gavin nods and smiles. “I’m fine, darling.” He lays his hand over Fritz’s to encourage him to keep rubbing, keep touching him, and leans in to nibble and lick lightly along Fritz’s neck. Fritz hums and he relaxes back into the sofa, squeezing Gavin’s leg like a cat kneading a blanket. A deep, intimate warmth blossoms in Gavin’s groin and he moans low in his throat as his pants quickly get too tight, constricting his cock. But the intrusive memory has left him feeling grimy. What he really needs is a long, hot shower to scrub off the filthy phantom feelings of McCray’s hands on his body.

Fritz gently disrupts his thoughts by coaxing Gavin up into another deep kiss, inviting Gavin to invade his mouth this time around. Gavin moans softly in approval. As he plunges his tongue inside and slowly explores the wet heat of Fritz’s mouth, an idea hits him, a deliciously wicked idea. What better way to erase the memory of being touched against his will than with the reality of being touched with his very enthusiastic consent?

Besides, he can’t just leave Fritz out here all by himself and go take a shower after he went and turned the poor man on. That would be absolutely vulgar. Crass, even.

Humming, Gavin breaks the kiss and pulls back enough that he can look Fritz in those deep, warm cinnamon eyes of his while staying close enough to feel Fritz’s breath ghost along his lips. “It’s been a hellaciously long day, and I need a shower. Care to join me?” Gavin purrs, leaning forward to capture Fritz’s bottom lip between his teeth and suck on it gently. Fritz shudders and groans, reaching up to cradle the back of Gavin’s head. This time when Gavin pulls back he moves a little further away, tantalizingly out of reach.

Fritz’s chest is heaving and his eyes are soft, glossing over with desire. “You won’t get very clean if I do,” he finally says, swiping his tongue over his swollen red lips. “Besides, I should make something for dinner.”

Gavin shrugs and purses his lips in the little pout that he knows drives Fritz wild. “What a shame.” He drops his gaze to Fritz’s crotch and then climbs him back up, raking his eyes over every inch of him. Then, with a flirty arch of his brows, Gavin unfolds himself from the couch in a slow, sensuous motion and sashays to their bedroom, infusing an exorbitant amount of sass into hips for extra pizzazz. He can practically feel Fritz’s eyes burning holes in his ass.

Gavin gives him five minutes. Ten tops.

After slipping his suit into a dry clean bag and tossing his shirt and socks into the dirty clothes hamper, he grabs two of the fluffiest towels in the linen cupboard and saunters into the bathroom in just his boxers and his V-neck undershirt (both Armani, of course). While waiting for the water to heat up he peeks around the corner to see what Fritz is doing and finds him sitting on the edge of the sofa, drumming his hands on his legs and tossing glances between the kitchen and the hallway. Smirking to himself, Gavin slips back into the bathroom, deliberately leaving the door open a crack, then carefully removes the bandages on his neck and shucks his glasses and underwear, folding them neatly on the counter.

The steady stream of hot water sluicing down his chest is absolute nirvana. Gavin sighs, letting the spray plaster his hair to his skull and then turning so it can knead the muscles of his back and shoulders, which are still sore from being bound for hours. The wounds on his neck are still raw and sting when the water hits them, making him hiss softly.

As the water flows over his arms and between his legs, he soaps up a thick blue rag and massages it into a rich lather. Soapsuds slide down his slick body, sloughing off the memory of McCray’s hands along with the dirt and dried blood and exhaustion of the last twenty-four plus hours. Cleansing the rag in the spray, he soaps it up again and starts round two, scrubbing until his skin is a pale pink. The soft white noise of the water pelting the porcelain soothes him, easing his mind into a calm lull. Instead of imagining McCray’s fingerprints swirling down the drain, Gavin imagines that the rag sliding across his skin is Fritz’s hand, caressing him and stroking him with ravenous touches. Oh god yes. Heat twists in his belly and he moans, eyes closing as he reaches down and cups his thickening length. Hand slippery with soap, he gives himself a long, slow pull.

A gutted noise draws him from the fantasy, and he turns his head to find that, just as he predicted, he’s no longer alone. Fritz is a colorful blur through the foggy glass of the shower door, tugging off his clothes like he’s getting paid to do it. And isn’t that a thought. Puffing out his chest, Gavin shoots Fritz a cocky smirk as he steps over the edge of the tub to join him, eyes nearly pitch black with need as his hungry gaze devours Gavin’s body.

“Well hello there,” Gavin says, still stroking himself with one hand and casually propping the other on his hip. “Fancy meeting you here.”

Fritz just shakes his head fondly and smiles at Gavin’s antics, curling into him and catching his lips in a kiss. Gavin moans into Fritz’s mouth, hands aching with the need to touch him, to bring this beautiful man to his knees with pleasure. Wrapping his free hand around Fritz’s cock he gives it a few languid strokes, squeezing firmly, then swirls his thumb along the head and into the slit. Fritz’s breath stutters and he bucks into Gavin’s hand, hardening even more as a flush that has nothing to do with the steam or the heat of the water inches up his neck. Seeing Fritz well on his way to completely wrecked sends a tingling warmth surging through Gavin, and his balls tighten as his own cock swiftly reaches fullness.

“See? I told you that you wouldn’t get very clean,” Fritz murmurs as he breaks the kiss, eyes dancing with amusement. Minding the bruise, he runs his hands down Gavin’s sides and lets them settle at his hips, caressing his hipbones with his thumbs. Gavin’s breath quickens as a shiver wracks his body and ripples of pleasure course through him. Oh yes. Yes, yes, yes. Fritz certainly knows all the right buttons to push.

“Pity,” he manages to gasp out. He sucks in a stuttering breath to deploy another witty rejoinder, but it stays poised on the tip of his tongue as Fritz gently bats his fingers away from his cock and takes Gavin in hand, squeezing the base in a pulsing motion and then tapping his fingers along the underside of the shaft. Gavin’s knees buckle and he wraps his arms around Fritz’s shoulders to stay upright on the slippery surface as the water pelts his back and runs down the backs of his legs. Oh god, does Fritz know the right buttons to push.

But as good as it feels — and holy fuck does it feel good — this is supposed to be about Fritz, not himself. Fritz has more than earned the right to be worshipped tonight. Not that he doesn’t deserve to be worshipped every day of the week, because of course he does, but after everything Gavin put him through yesterday, he wants nothing more than to show Fritz how grateful he is, how much he appreciates him, how much he adores him. His own stubborn pride almost cost him this, and the bleak awareness of that fact is as raw in his mind as the cuts and gashes on his neck.

Covering Fritz’s hand with his own, Gavin steels his resolve and pries Fritz’s fingers off his cock even as it aches and throbs with the need to be touched. Fritz’s brow furrows and he opens his mouth, probably to ask if Gavin is okay, but Gavin smiles up at him and presses a finger to Fritz’s lips to let him know everything is fine. Then, without ever taking his eyes off of Fritz, Gavin slowly sinks to his knees in front of him and licks the underside of Fritz’s cock from the point where it meets his balls all the way to the head in a long, leisurely stroke.

Fritz keens in his throat and throws out his arms to either side, bracing himself on the wall and shower door. “Holy fuck, Gavin.”

Gavin hums. “That’s the idea,” he says, then does it again, this time curling his tongue to cradle the shaft. Fritz’s moan goes straight to Gavin’s own cock, and his thighs tremble with the exertion of holding himself upright. Leaning back to savor the moment, Gavin takes a deep breath and then leans back in, wrapping his lips around the head of Fritz’s cock and swirling his tongue around the sensitive underside and into his slit. A salty bead of precome bursts onto his tongue and he hums again, feeling very proud of himself at getting Fritz so riled up already.

Gavin’s just getting started.

Water runs down the nape of his neck, stinging the cuts, but Gavin ignores it, fixing his entire attention on Fritz. Right now, nothing else matters but this, pleasuring Fritz until he’s screaming in ecstasy. After one last lick to the head, Gavin opens wide and takes half of Fritz’s length into his mouth, wrapping his hand around the remainder of his shaft and stroking him up and down as he hollows his cheeks. With his other hand he scoops up Fritz’s balls, rolling them gently around in his palm.

“Oh god…” Fritz gasps. His eyes are squeezed shut and his chest is heaving like he’s running a marathon. An electric warmth floods Gavin at seeing Fritz coming apart above him. He moans around Fritz’s cock as his own twitches and throbs between his legs. For a second his body craves Fritz’s touch the way a starving man craves a meal, but he tucks the need in the back of his mind and refocuses his energy on making Fritz feel amazing, wanted, and above all, appreciated.

Keeping the suction steady, Gavin releases Fritz’s balls to run the pads of his fingers slowly up and down Fritz’s perineum, adding more pressure with each pass. Still pumping the shaft, he bobs his head forwards and backwards on Fritz’s cock as it slides in and out of his mouth. More precome spurts onto his tongue and he smiles inwardly. Fritz is achingly hard and horny.

Time to take it up a notch.

Humming low in his throat to tease Fritz with the vibrations, Gavin goes a little further down on Fritz’s cock with each downward stroke until the head is pushing at the back of his throat. Glancing up at Fritz, because he needs to see what this will do to him, he makes himself yawn to open up his throat and then swallows Fritz’s entire length.

Fritz positively screams and fists a hand into Gavin’s hair just the wrong side of too hard, legs shaking so much he almost collapses. Ignoring the pain, Gavin clamps his hands around Fritz’s hips to keep him upright. The last thing he needs is Fritz falling on him, or worse, falling backward and splitting his head open on the edge of the tub. When he’s sure Fritz has regained his balance, he quirks his brows up at him and smirks as much as he can with his lips stretched around Fritz’s sizeable girth and rhythmically contracts his throat muscles. The gutted sound that punches out of Fritz’s chest leaves Gavin feeling puffed up and warm and so very, very smug.

Congratulating himself on a blow job well done, Gavin swallows around Fritz’ cock and then pulls back to take the head in and out of his throat, which he’s sure will drive Fritz over the edge, when Fritz suddenly tugs at his hair. “S-stop,” he says, voice breathy and barely audible above the gush of the shower.

Narrowing his eyes, because he knows from personal experience that deep throating feels fucking amazing, Gavin slowly pulls off of Fritz’s cock with an obscene ‘pop’ and stares up at him, blinking rapidly to keep the water out his eyes. “Is everything okay?” he asks, voice a bit hoarse. He’s shuffling through everything he did, trying to figure out what the hell he did wrong, when Fritz tugs his hair again and then lets go. He’s panting hard, like he can’t get enough air in his lungs.

Still frowning Gavin stands back up, dry washing his hands as his chest tightens. What on earth could be wrong? His technique is flawless, if he does say so himself. Perfected over years of practice. He’s about to ask again if Fritz is okay when Fritz enfolds him in an embrace so tight the water can’t flow between their bodies, pressing kisses to his forehead and temples.

“That…was amazing,” Fritz finally says, sounding like he’s catching his breath after a prolonged sprint.

Gavin lets out a breath he doesn’t remember taking as relief floods over him, leaving his mouth dry. He wraps his arms around Fritz’s waist and leans into him, nuzzling a kiss into his neck. But that still doesn’t explain why Fritz had him stop. If it felt amazing, he would have wanted Gavin to keep it up. Biting his lip, he pulls away and coaxes Fritz’s unfocused gaze onto him. “Then why did you want me to stop?”

Fritz smiles at him, brushing the backs of his fingers down Gavin’s cheek. “Because I don’t want to come like that, and trust me, I was just about there.”

Gavin leans in to Fritz’s touch. As far as reasons go, that’s a good one. “So how do you want to come?”

In answer Fritz tugs him close again, one arm around Gavin’s shoulders, the other across his back. “I almost lost you,” he murmurs against the side of Gavin’s head. Gavin grimaces and stares down at the water swirling around their feet. He’d hoped to avoid bringing up yesterday, but it looks like Fritz has other ideas. “When I saw you in that car with that knife to your throat, I just —” He cuts off with a little choking noise and squeezes Gavin so hard he squeaks.

Well. So much for making Fritz happy. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles against Fritz’s neck, swallowing harshly to ease the spike of pain in the back of his throat. He’d give anything to go back and smack some sense into himself, make himself go to the precinct or literally anywhere else but home. Hell, he could have stayed at the office and logged in a few more billable hours. So many different things he could have done, but no. He had to go and get himself kidnapped. So stupid.

Fritz squeezes him again as if he knows what he’s thinking and rubs his hands along Gavin’s back in slow, soothing circles. “Don’t apologize, babe. I’m not mad at you.”

“But if —”

Fritz silences him with a kiss, moving his soft lips against Gavin’s in slow, gentle caresses. Gavin sighs into him and reaches up to cup Fritz’s face. The chalky crust of guilt tainting his good mood dissolves as though the water is washing it away. For a moment the rest of the world fades to black and it’s just him and Fritz, just the firm warmth of Fritz’s body against his.

When they finally break the kiss, chests heaving and breaths coming in quick bursts, the water cascading around them is lukewarm at best.

“I want to make love to you,” Fritz whispers against Gavin’s lips as his hands stroke and knead Gavin’s back and shoulders.

Gavin’s already brisk heartrate quickens even more and he’s suddenly breathless, can feel his pulse throbbing in his throat. He can count on one hand the times that they’ve made love. Most of the time it’s just joyous, vigorous fucking. While there’s nothing at all wrong with that — really, zero complaints there — sometimes Gavin wants to take it slow, to enjoy the moment, draw out their connection as long as possible instead of chasing after release. And the fact that Fritz isn’t angry with him, still loves him and wants him despite all the shit that happened yesterday, overwhelms Gavin so much that for a moment he can’t speak, can only trace Fritz’s face with his fingertips and gaze up at him in naked adoration.

When his voice finally comes back, it cracks with emotion. “I want to make love to you too.”

Fritz rewards him with a tender smile.

They make quick work of the rest of their shower, shampooing (and, in Gavin’s case, conditioning, which for once Fritz doesn’t tease him about) and rinsing off in under five minutes. After toweling each other dry between fervent, needy kisses and throaty moans, they stumble their way to the bedroom — and Gavin lurches to a halt when a sight he never expected greets him.

The overhead lights are turned off and the room is lit entirely by the soft glow of candles sitting on the dresser and their nightstands, casting smooth, velvet shadows on the walls. Their brand new bottle of lube rests hopefully against a pillow, and a gorgeous instrumental plays faintly in the background, mingling with the scents of earthy sandalwood and rich vanilla.

“Oh my,” Gavin murmurs, unconsciously laying a hand over his heart. So this is what Fritz was doing during the first few minutes of Gavin’s shower. That sly fox. “What’s the occasion?”

Fritz kisses the tip of his nose, making Gavin scrunch his face at the ticklish sensation. “You’re alive and you’re okay,” Fritz says. He glances around the room as though inspecting his handiwork for defects. “Do you like it?” he asks, biting the inside of his cheek and shuffling his feet on the carpet.

Nodding, Gavin presses several light kisses to the side of Fritz’s mouth. “It’s perfect, darling.” It’s also a bit obvious that even after two years together Fritz is still used to wooing women instead of Gavin, but Gavin thinks the world of Fritz, and the effort he put into this touches him. Besides, if Fritz wants to pamper him and treat him like royalty, far be it from Gavin Q. Baker to argue with that. He’ll just have to return the favor in bed, something he’s most certainly looking forward to.

Fritz relaxes and reaches out to tug Gavin into a hug. Smiling broadly, Gavin dances out of reach, winking and tossing Fritz a coquettish glance. He perches himself on the bed next to the lube, stretching his slightly bent legs out in front of him and leaning back seductively against the thick stack of pillows. “Now come ravish me.”

Instead of rushing forward Fritz takes his time, gazing steadily at Gavin with pupils blown wide like he’s feasting on the sight of him. Hot waves of pleasure ripple through Gavin’s body straight to his cock at being looked at with such fervent, hungry desire, and he shudders as goosebumps prickle his skin. By the time Fritz finally gets to the bed, he’s a puddle of anticipation and shamelessly parts his legs so Fritz can kneel between them.

He’s not expecting Fritz to grab one of his feet and start rubbing small circles into the ball and sole with his thumbs. Gavin tenses and suspends his breath for a split second, then melts into the mattress and moans appreciatively as Fritz’s fingers work their magic. “That feels so good, babe.”

Fritz smiles up at him and presses a kiss to the top of his foot. “I’m glad.”

Gavin can’t take his eyes of Fritz as he massages Gavin’s feet, his face a mixture of concentration and adoration and desire. Suddenly he’s so thankful for Fritz, and it has nothing to do with the borderline professional massage. Well, almost nothing. He’s glad that they evolved from their strictly platonic, attorney-client relationship to lovers, that they ignored the naysayers who told them they wouldn’t make it together, that despite the dangers of Fritz’s chosen profession, Gavin hasn’t lost him yet, and hopefully never will. He’s thankful because Fritz is the kindest, most decent man on the face of the planet, and of all the people he could have chosen, he chose Gavin.

Closing his eyes, Gavin tips his head back and savors the sensations washing over him as Fritz finishes with his feet. Propping them gently on the bed, he slowly kisses and caresses his way up Gavin’s ankles to his knees and then to his thighs, his touch reverent and devout as he feasts on Gavin’s body. Gavin’s cock aches to be touched, but Fritz licks and presses soft kisses to every inch of skin but there. He can’t help the little gasps and sighs that fall from his parted lips as Fritz kneads the globes of his ass while nibbling on his hip bone and then runs his fingertips lightly over Gavin’s entrance without penetrating it. Whining softly he grinds back onto Fritz’s fingers, seeking more, but Fritz nips his other hip bone in reprimand, and Gavin makes himself go still even as his body shudders with an electric rush of pleasure.

By the time Fritz is sucking and nibbling his nipples into hardened peaks and flicking his tongue over the sensitive buds, Gavin is a writhing mess beneath him. His breath thrashes his chest in harsh, ragged gasps, his body throbbing with the sweet, warm ache of needing to be filled, of needing Fritz to claim him, to know that Fritz is his and his alone. With a long, soft moan he spreads his legs and arches his back, stretching his arms above his head to grasp the slats of the headboard, offering himself up to Fritz.

Fritz doesn’t disappoint. He pulls Gavin into his arms, drawing him close and capturing his lips in a passionate kiss. “I love you, Gavin,” he says as he licks and nips along Gavin’s jaw. “So very, very much.”

“I — nngh — love you too,” Gavin says, gasping as Fritz bites gently on his ear lobe and traces the shell of his ear with his tongue. Sparks fly down his spine straight to his groin and a bead of precome drips from Gavin’ s slit, slow and thick like honey.

“Touch me, baby,” Fritz breathes into Gavin’s neck, and Gavin doesn’t have to be told twice. Releasing the headboard, he wraps his arms around Fritz’s shoulders and roams the hard planes of his back, memorizing him, fingertips reading each bump of his ribs and spine like Braille. Then Fritz bites down hard on the spot where Gavin’s neck meets his shoulder, sucking a bruise into the skin, and with a strangled cry Gavin pulls Fritz down and curls around him, never wanting to let him go.

“Fritz…please. Need you.”

Fritz licks and kisses over the bite in unrepentant apology, then props himself up on his forearm to reach between Gavin’s parted thighs and play with his balls. “What do you need, baby?”

Gavin groans, so aroused his brain is fuzzy and he can barely think, let alone speak. “Need you inside me.” He slots his knees on Fritz’s hips so Fritz gets the right idea in case that came out wrong, or incoherent, or not at all.

In answer Fritz brushes his fingers across the puckered skin of his hole, drawing another long moan from Gavin, but again he doesn’t push inside. Gavin whimpers and rocks back onto Fritz’s fingers, but Fritz just moves with him, swirling and sweeping his fingers along the sensitive skin.

“Please, Fritz,” Gavin practically sobs, his entire body flush with need. More precome leaks out the tip of his cock and he grinds the wet head of it against the deliciously hard, flat planes of Fritz’s stomach.

Fritz moans, eyes impossibly black. “Ask me to make love to you,” he says, voice strangled. “Please, Gavin. Need to hear you ask.”

Shuddering in pleasure, Gavin rubs his hands along Fritz’s shoulders, then reaches up to cup his face, forcing Fritz to look him in the eye. He gazes into Fritz’s eyes for a long moment, then closes his eyes and brushes his lips across Fritz’s mouth. “Make love to me.”

Technically it’s not an ask as much as it’s a demand, but Fritz doesn’t seem to notice or mind. A wrecked moan falls from Fritz’s lips and he grinds his hips down into Gavin’s, bringing their cocks together in exquisite friction, making them both gasp and arch into each other. It’s perfect, so perfect, but Gavin needs more, needs them to be so close that he can’t tell where one of them ends and the other begins.

Fumbling around on the bed, he grabs the lube with a shaking hand and presses it to Fritz’s chest, urging him to take it. Fritz catches his lips in a final kiss, tongue plunging into Gavin’s mouth, then he pushes himself up to his knees and thumbs open the bottle with a soft snick. Liberally coating his fingers, he reaches down and strokes along Gavin’s entrance before pushing one inside in an achingly slow thrust.

Gavin’s breath stutters and he moans, spreading his legs wider for Fritz. Finally. Oh god, it feels so good. His thighs tremble as Fritz swiftly adds another finger, scissoring his hole in a delicious stretch that leaves Gavin light-headed and breathing hard. Then Fritz curls his fingers right into Gavin’s prostate. Jolts of pleasure course through and he can’t stop the wrecked scream that punches out his throat, his mind fizzling and going momentarily blank with bliss.

“Fuck…” Fritz gasps, biting his lips. His eyes are locked on Gavin’s face, smoldering with intensity as he watches Gavin come undone. Gavin has no problem putting on a show, especially for Fritz, and this is supposed to be about him anyway, so he lifts his hips and rocks them against Fritz’s fingers, moaning and cursing loudly as his body breaks out in a light sweat.

“Fuck, Gavin. So hot,” Fritz says. Gavin’s cheeks heat up at the praise. Honestly he has no idea what Fritz sees in him of all people, but he’s glad he sees whatever it is he sees. Then Fritz adds another finger, widening the stretch at the same time he leans down to lap and suck softly on one of Gavin’s nipples. Gavin gasps at the double sensation, body curving up into the sweet pressure on his chest as the muscles of his hole flutter at the satisfying feeling of being filled.

It feels like Fritz takes hours to stretch him open. Gavin is fucking wrecked by the time Fritz pulls his fingers out with an obscene squish and grabs the lube to slick his cock. Panting, Gavin forces himself into action and snatches the lube before Fritz can use it. Gavin won’t let him do that himself. Despite his plan to spend the evening worshipping Fritz, Fritz ended up worshipping him, and he can at least do this for his lover.

Fritz just stares, blinking down at his empty hands like he’s wondering where the lube went, then transfers the adorably confused look onto Gavin.

“Let me,” Gavin manages to gasp out, hands shaking slightly as he squeezes lube onto his fingers. Understanding brightens Fritz’s face and he shifts to give Gavin access to his cock, drops of warm precome dribbling onto Gavin’s legs and groin. Reaching between them, Gavin runs his slick hand along Fritz’s hard, red length, reveling in the feeling of silky soft skin sliding through his fingers. He wets his lips with his tongue and bites down hard on his bottom lip as he swirls his thumb around the head and into the slit, enjoying the breathless little noises Fritz is making.

Once Fritz’s cock is slick from base to tip, Gavin snaps the bottle of lube shut and tosses it aside, not particularly caring where it lands. He keeps hold of Fritz’s cock as Fritz leans forward, propping himself up on his hands as he lines himself up with Gavin’s hole. When Gavin feels the tip breach him he lets go, then leans back and gazes up at Fritz, spreading his legs wide for him, urging Fritz deeper inside his body.

Fritz growls low and deep in the back of his throat and he buries his thick cock into Gavin with a slow, unbroken roll of his hips. Gavin throws back his head and lets out a breathless noise of his own when Fritz pushes in to the hilt, his body swallowing Fritz’s considerable length almost hungrily.

“Fuck,” Gavin moans, squeezing his eyes shut as his muscles flutter around the very welcome intrusion, adjusting to it. Above him Fritz hums in agreement. Then tiny, gentle kisses pepper his face and Gavin smiles, reaching up to tug Fritz down into an embrace. Fritz is heavy against him but not so heavy he can’t breathe, and the sensation of being enveloped by him, the heat of his body surrounding Gavin and pushing into him, makes his chest swell, because he never feels as safe and protected as he does nestled here in Fritz’s strong, muscular arms. After everything that happened yesterday, he clings to the feeling.

When his muscles finally relax around Fritz’s cock, Gavin sighs and opens his eyes to find Fritz looking at him like he’s the only man in the world, eyes soft and shining with emotion. “Hi,” he says with a lopsided grin, reaching forward to brush his thumb along Gavin’s cheek. Gavin grins back and traces Fritz’s jaw with a finger, the stubble prickling the soft skin of the pad.

“You okay?” Fritz asks, because he always does, because he’s Fritz, because he genuinely cares. It’s one of the many, many reasons Gavin is glad that Fritz is his to keep — as long as he wants to stay, of course. Honestly, Gavin hopes it’s forever. He never wants to let Fritz out of his arms.

“Mmmm. More than okay.” Gavin leans up to kiss him, cradling the back of Fritz’s head with both hands and toying with the short hairs at the nape of his neck. Fritz makes a hungry noise and kisses him back hard enough to bruise, sending a thrill of adrenaline zinging along Gavin’s already hypersensitive nerves. His cock throbs, leaking and so hard it almost hurts. Moaning, he arches his back and bucks up into Fritz, gasping and panting as his cock slides between their sweat slick stomachs. If Fritz doesn’t move soon, Gavin’s going to flip them over and ride him hard, lovemaking be damned.

As though he knows what Gavin is thinking, Fritz presses Gavin down into the mattress and hooks one of Gavin’s legs over his shoulder as he begins rocking his hips in a slow roll that makes Gavin’s thighs quiver and tremble. Oh god yes. Tingling, white hot heat sings through him as the head of Fritz’s cock brushes against his prostate and he screams his pleasure, careless of who hears him. He’s so full and it’s good, so good he can barely remember to breathe.

“Fuck, Gavin. So tight,” Fritz pants as he pulls almost all the way out and slides back in in a maddeningly slow rhythm. “Feels so good.” Gavin hums wordlessly in reply, beyond the capability of speech at this point. With his leg over Fritz’s shoulder he can’t do much but lift his hips to angle himself for Fritz’s thrusts. Lucky for Gavin, that’s all he really needs to do anyway. It’s the perfect angle for Fritz to press against his increasingly sensitive prostate on almost every pass, punching a string of strangled “ahs” and “nnghs” from Gavin’s throat.

Fritz maintains the slow rhythm, steady and smooth like water lapping against the shore. Gavin writhes beneath him, at first seeking more, harder, faster, but then he reminds himself that this isn’t about him, it’s about Fritz and what he wants. Gavin owes Fritz his life and he would give Fritz anything he wanted to show his gratitude, and if that means submitting to the pace Fritz sets, well, he’ll do just that.

And maybe a little more.

Crying out as Fritz hits his prostate again, Gavin arches his back and stretches his arms above his head, crossing his wrists. That earns him a low growl of approval from Fritz, who twines his fingers with Gavin’s and pins his hands to the bed. A pang of pleasure thrills in Gavin’s chest and he wraps his other leg around Fritz’s hips, drawing him closer, letting him know that Gavin loves Fritz’s cock pounding into him. Fritz growls again and claims his lips in a passionate kiss, hips snapping into Gavin a little harder than before.

Well. That worked beautifully. Smiling to himself in accomplishment, Gavin breaks the kiss and tilts his head back, inviting Fritz to nibble and bite along his throat. Immediately Fritz takes him up on the offer, minding the cuts and gashes. The combination of Fritz’s teeth and tongue on his throat and Fritz’s cock slamming into his prostate is enough to make Gavin’s head spin, dizzy with ecstasy. Fuck. If Fritz keeps this up, Gavin’s going to come.

Fritz keeps up the new pace for a while before slowing back down just as Gavin feels the heat of his orgasm coiling low in his belly. Fuck, he was so close, he was almost there. Whining, he resists the urge to buck his hips and thrust back as much as he can onto Fritz’s cock, forcing himself to honor his promise to let Fritz take control. If he’s honest with himself he’s starting to regret that promise, but he refuses to go back on his word, even if he’s the only one who knows about it.

Breathing hard, Fritz eases Gavin’s leg off his shoulder and lays it gently on the bed with a soft kiss to his knee, then leans down and showers Gavin’s face in kisses, apparently sensing Gavin’s frustration. “Not yet, babe. Just a little longer, okay? I promise.” As much as he would love to argue with that, present a case on why Fritz needs to get to it now, Gavin just nods and presses a kiss to the side of Fritz’s mouth.

He’s not disappointed for long. Nuzzling into Gavin’s neck, Fritz sucks on his earlobe as he reaches down and strokes Gavin’s length in tandem with his hips, pulling a sharp gasp from Gavin’s throat. “Fritz,” he breathes, the first coherent word he’s been capable of for a little while now, and arches into his hand. Fritz smiles against his neck and then swirls his thumb around the head of Gavin’s cock, collecting the precome gushing from the tip, then slides back down the shaft, pumping him hard enough to make Gavin scream again. He can’t decide if he wants to rock back on Fritz’s cock or buck up into his hand, so he settles for wrapping his shaking legs around Fritz’s waist and taking everything Fritz is giving him.

Each hard, slow thrust grazes over Gavin’s prostate, bringing him closer and closer to orgasm. Fritz’s name falls from his trembling lips like a sacred litany. Between recitations he fills the heavy air between them with long moans and delicate gasps; soft bedroom hymns. Sweat slicks his body like baptism and Fritz’s touch sears his skin like holy fire. Arching up into him, Gavin unhooks his legs from around Fritz’s waist and spreads them as wide as he can, giving himself over to the sensations. To Fritz.

“Fuck you’re hot,” Fritz gasps above him. He bends down and kisses him, releasing his grip on Gavin’s hands to envelop Gavin in his arms. “Love you so much,” Fritz whispers into his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. “I — love — you,” he says, pressing a kiss to different spot on Gavin’s face between each word.

Overwhelmed, Gavin manages to make vaguely affirmative noises, hoping Fritz understands what he means. He’s never felt so loved. A wave of heat hits him and his eyes burn, and before he can stop them hot tears stream down his face.

Oh god, oh fuck. Just no. This is the last thing he needs. Gavin Q. Baker does not cry his way through sex, thank you very much. A flush creeps across his cheeks as his chest tightens, ears and neck feeling impossibly hot. His only consolation is that Fritz hasn’t noticed.

“Hey, babe, you okay? Shh, it’s okay, it’s okay,” Fritz murmurs, stopping the roll of his hips to gather Gavin into his arms and kiss away his tears.

And there goes Gavin’s only consolation. Fabulous.

Coughing, he clears his throat and squirms under Fritz, willing his stupid self to stop crying like a teenage virgin on prom night. “’m fine,” he mumbles. “Just…ignore me ‘n continue.”

“You sure?”

Gavin huffs and swipes the tears off his face before Fritz gets even more distracted. “Yes, I’m sure. Now fuck me like you mean it.”

Fritz narrows his eyes and stares at him a little longer as though gauging whether Gavin is telling the truth. Apparently his special agent x-ray vision clues him in on the fact that yes, Gavin is in fact perfectly fine, or maybe it’s Gavin thrusting down on his cock in a very deliberate get-moving-now sort of way, because Fritz decides to start rolling his hips again, pushing his cock deep into Gavin’s body. “Your wish is my command, your worship.”

Gavin scowls at the pet name, but it quickly morphs into a gasp as Fritz grabs his legs, pushing them up to his chest, and snaps his hips forward. Gavin moans at the depth of the penetration, arching up into Fritz and letting his head fall back onto the pillows.

“Yes, oh god yes, fuck me,” Gavin says, voice choppy as Fritz pounds into him harder with each thrust. Chest heaving, he pants and moans as he strokes his own cock, slick with precome and the sweat of their arousal.

“Nngh, so close,” Fritz grunts above him, breaths even more labored than Gavin’s. He’s clearly losing himself in the motion now, thrusts becoming increasingly forceful and less smooth. “Tell me when you’re close; want us to come together.”

Fuck. Just the idea of it almost pushes Gavin over the edge. “Yes,” he says, shivering and moaning as Fritz nails his prostate. It quickly turns into a chant as Fritz slams into him so hard he’s inching up the bed from the force of it, just the way Gavin likes it. Another hit to his prostate and he’s screaming out his pleasure, far too gone to try and hold anything back as Fritz pounds into him without mercy, fucking him raw.

Heat coils at the base of his spine, and he knows he’s about to go over. “Shit — Fritz, gonna come —”

“Do it babe. Come for me,” Fritz says, slamming once more into Gavin’s prostate. Gasping, Gavin pumps his cock once, twice, three more times, then cries out as he explodes, eyes rolling back in his head as pleasure surges through him and he spills over his hand and stomach and chest. His muscles clench down hard around Fritz’s cock and with a shout Fritz too falls over the edge, filling Gavin up with his hot come. His hips stutter against Gavin’s ass for several moments before he lets out a groan and collapses on top of him, panting harshly.

The extra weight doesn’t make it any easier for Gavin to catch his breath but he doesn’t mind, threading his fingers through Fritz’s damp hair and kissing the sheen of sweat from his forehead. “Fuck, Fritz. That was…” he trails off, not sure he can adequately describe it. There either aren’t any words, or Fritz just fucked them all out of him. He’s leaning toward the latter.

Fritz laughs tiredly against Gavin’s chest. “Good?” he says in between gulps of air.

Gavin snorts. “To say the least.” He drags his fingernails lightly across Fritz’s scalp, earning a soft moan of approval. Then one of the few brain cells that didn’t white out in sheer ecstasy offers another, better suggestion. “In fact, the word ‘amazing’ comes to mind.”

Fritz laughs again and snuggles into Gavin like he’s a giant teddy bear. “Good,” he says again, which is apparently the only word he knows right now. Gavin can’t blame him.

Once they’ve both calmed down a bit and caught their breaths, Gavin tugs Fritz up for a sloppy kiss. They explore each other’s mouths like starving men at a banquet until Fritz is soft enough to pull out. With a groan he rolls off of Gavin and flops onto the bed, one arm sprawled above his head, the other at his side.

Well. That just won’t do. Rearranging Fritz’s unresisting tangle of limp limbs, Gavin lays his head on Fritz’s sweaty chest and cuddles into him, tossing a leg between Fritz’s and draping an arm over Fritz’s stomach. Fritz mutters something incoherent and wraps his arm around Gavin’s waist, tugging him close.

Gavin takes a deep breath and lets it out slowly in a sigh of contentment. Their musk almost overpowers the vanilla and sandalwood perfume of the candles, many of which are burned almost all the way down. The flickering shadows dance on the walls, and as much as Gavin wants to curl into Fritz and fall asleep, they can’t leave a bunch of fire hazards burning freely. Especially not with Joel around.

Pecking Fritz on the cheek, Gavin gets up long enough to blow them all out. Smoke fills the room, making him cough softly. Waving his hand in front of his face, he crawls back onto the bed and tugs the comforter over their spent bodies. They can get under the sheets later, assuming they have the desire or the energy.

Fritz is dead to the world, chest rising and falling in deep, rhythmic breaths. Smiling softly, Gavin presses a chaste kiss to his cheek. Fritz has more than earned a good night’s sleep, especially since he could have left the hospital at any time but chose to stay and keep Gavin company. Plus he actually has to work tomorrow, while Gavin has to bum around the house and find something to do to keep himself from going insane. Ugh.

Honestly, he’d almost rather get kidnapped again. Almost. But Fritz probably would kill him, so. Pass.

Pressing himself closer to Fritz, Gavin squeezes him lightly as a warm tiredness settles over him like a blanket. In his sleep Fritz rolls over onto his side and curls around Gavin, slinging an arm over him and sighing into his hair. Feeling satisfied with life, the universe, and everything, Gavin nuzzles into Fritz, tucking himself beneath Fritz’s chin, and gives in to the drowsiness tugging gently at his mind. “Please don’t ever let me go,” he whispers into Fritz’s chest without realizing he’s speaking aloud.

Fritz shifts beneath him, and then his warm, soft lips ghost over Gavin’s eyelids as he whispers back, “I won’t.”

-.-.-.-.-

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> Constructive criticism always welcome, and as always, thanks for any comments and/or kudos! n_n


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